“I’m not sure my opinion counts for much.”
“It does.” I wanted to squeeze his hand or touch his knee.
Xander glanced at me and smiled. We both turned our attention to the screen and watched the rest of the slide show.
“I have no idea how I’ll narrow it down to twenty shots.”
“Twenty shots, maximum,” Maddison reminded me. “Less is often more. My advice? You want one stunning headshot and a medium and long shot in each outfit. Last, a headshot without make-up. Ready to go through them again?”
“Okay.” I wasn’t ready. I was overwhelmed but couldn’t take up much more of Maddison’s time. I hoped she didn’t charge by the hour.
We went through the photos one at a time. I had to decide whether they were a keeper, a maybe, or a definite no. It was so hard. I didn’t know what agents would be looking for. The truth was, they’d all want to see something different. They might have a particular campaign in mind, even at an open call. I decided variety was going to be my best friend. Luckily, the outfits were different from high fashion to catalogue comfort.
“Which do you think for the headshot?” I asked Xander.
“One of the ones with the red lipstick,” he said without hesitation. “Did you have that in your pocket?”
I laughed. “Yes. I always carry some emergency make-up with me. Red lipstick makes me feel brave.”
He stared at me, his eyes oddly damp. I wished I knew what he was thinking at that moment. All I knew was that the way he looked at me made butterflies swarm in my stomach. It was such a nice feeling. No one had ever made me feel that way before.
“That one,” he said as Maddison slowly flicked through the headshots where I’d worn the leather jacket and the dark-red lipstick. “It’s stunning.”
My breath got stuck in my throat as I looked at it. It was a great photo. Was it better than the others? I had no clue. But Xander had picked it, and that was good enough for me.
I nodded in agreement.
“Excellent. Let’s keep going,” Maddison said.
It took us almost two hours to narrow down to twelve photos. Maddison put my final selection into a portfolio and flicked through it on the TV.
“Wow,” Xander said. “Amazing.”
“How about these for your comp card?” Maddison asked.
While we’d been staring at the portfolio photos, she’d been making a comp card mock-up. The make-up-free headshot was on one side, and she’d chosen four more pictures from the portfolio for the other side.
“Perfect,” I breathed.
“Awesome. Let me get your measurements so I can add them to the layout.”
“Don’t you already have them?”
Xander laughed. “Not unless my best guesses were scarily accurate.”
Maddison grabbed a tape measure and waved it at me. I stood so she could measure my height, chest, waist, and inseam.
“You weren’t far off.” She winked at Xander. “Let’s pop these in.” She also added my hair, eye colour, and shoe size. “Done.” She put the final mock-up onto the TV for me to see. “It’ll take me a few days to get these printed for you. Will fifty copies of your comp card do for now?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Great. I’ll also print two copies of your portfolio, just in case. Where should I get them all sent to?”
“My place,” Xander said.
“Which I have on file. Great.” Maddison clapped her hands together. “Would you mind if I keep half a dozen of your comp cards? I have a few photographer friends I think would be interested in working with you. No promises.”
“No. Of course not. That would be amazing. Thank you.” I stammered over my words.
